


Biting on My Tongue

by hyesoh



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Disney References, Implied Relationships, M/M, Superfamily (Marvel), Wade sings a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyesoh/pseuds/hyesoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a fight, a pop song, and Gwen’s borderline unhealthy crush on Deadpool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I disclaim all the songs I've butchered/will butcher for this story, particularly That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings, because in addition to Deadpool-izing parts of their song, I borrowed a phrase from it and made it the title of this story.

It started with a fight, a pop song, and Gwen’s borderline unhealthy crush on Deadpool.

Peter was just swinging towards the Avengers Tower, trying to get back before his midnight curfew (Cinderella much?) after an academic date with Gwen--no heroic detours whatsoever, when he saw Deadpool fighting a bunch of...ninjas? No, wait. Okay, those were definitely mutant ninja tortoises. Because villains were either running out of ideas of what to mutate or they had the shittiest sense of humor ever. Like, just last week, Peter defeated a bunch of mutated ballerina swans on Broadway.

Anyway.

Deadpool looked like he was having the time of his life, singing what sounds like a pop song on top of his lungs and slashing tortoises left and right. Peter remembered asking Gwen why she liked Deadpool better than Spiderman and she said something along the lines of, “He’s nice, funny, and has a great ass.” Peter said something like, “He has a reputation of being kinda mega crazy.” And Gwen, being Gwen, hit him on the arm playfully and said, “Oh, Peter. Aren’t you like, proof that I love crazy?”

It was unfair, because Peter hates Frozen lines being used in real life, but have Gwen quoting it to him and he’s all fond and exasperated at the same time.

Back to Deadpool and the tortoises (which is a terrible idea for a band name so don’t even think about it), Peter swung over and retrieved his phone from his bag just in time to hear, _“--I’m the last test subject up against the wall--”_ He forced himself not to think about terribad life choices. He was just here to document the mutant ninja tortoises because it’s relevant to the safety of New York City, and not because he had to have something to show Captain America and Iron Man that would keep them from grounding him should he get back (gods forbid) at 12:00:01 AM. He is also, for the record, not doing it for Gwendolyn Maxine ‘Deadpool-Is-Cooler-Than-My-Ex’ Stacy.

So, with those thoughts, he started to record Deadpool's fight scene a little distance away, far enough not to be noticed, but near enough to be able to record sound. It went something like:

 _“They call me Dead--”_ Chest kick. _“--they call me Sexy--”_ Headshot. _“--they call me Pool--”_ Decapitate. _“--they call me Wade--”_ Stab. _“That’s not my name--”_ Slams a ninja tortoise’s head against wall. _“That’s not my name--”_ Slams the same ninja’s head against wall again. _“That’s not myyy name!”_

Peter’s video shook a little because of him suppressing his laughter. Okay. So Gwen had a point. The guy _was_ funny. In a dark humor kind of way. Which is, quite unfortunately, one of Peter’s favorite kinds of humor. He still thinks his ass looks better, though.

 _“They call me Coulson--”_ Sucker punch. _“--but I’m a Wilson--”_ Kick to the whatever-it-is-that-tortoises-have-that-is-equivalent-to-a-man’s-groin. _“Merc with a mouth--”_ Standing arm bar. _“Always insane--”_ Snaps the tortoise’s arm in two. _“That’s not my name.”_ Headshot. _“That’s not my name.”_ Headshot. _“_ _That’s not myyy na--_ Spidey?”

Peter froze. It was only thanks to his spidey sense that he recognized the need to stop recording and quickly and casually hide his phone behind his back.

“Spidey?” Deadpool called more insistently. He was holding the last ninja tortoise by its long neck at arm’s length at the edge of the building, and he looked (really) quite insane. “Is that you?”

As if there was another guy in a red suit who ran around in a Spiderman outfit, Peter thought. Oh, wait. Didn’t Matt do that once upon an April Fools?

“Uh,” Peter said. He tugged his mask lower, just in case it decided to defy gravity and roll up his face. “Hey, uh, Deadpool.”

“Oh my guh--Hi!” Deadpool waved enthusiastically and dropped the last ninja tortoise thirty stories down. “Am I dreaming? Have the ninja turtles injected me with some sort of illusion thingamajigs?”

“You mean hallucinogens?”

“Ah, so close,” Deadpool said cheerfully. “So what are you doing here? I mean, duh, you live in New York; I know that, but--” The merc paused. His gaze indicated that he was now looking at the hand Peter had behind his back. “Do you have something for me? Flowers? Chocolates? Hand grenades? A wedding ring?”

Gwen was seriously insane having a crush on this guy. “It’s my um, it’s my phone,” Peter said. “Just my phone. Which I use. To um, call or text people and tell the time. Speaking of time--”

Deadpool gasped and clutched his chest dramatically before Peter could finish. “Well of course I’ll give you my personal number. All you had to do was ask! Or, you know, imply.”

“Um,” Peter started, but Deadpool snatched his phone and typed a number on it. After a few moments, probably-Deadpool’s-phone blared 'Survivor' by Destiny's Child.

“You can call me anytime 24/7,” Deadpool said. “I’ll even pause playing Solitaire for you. No promises to stop masturbating when you call, though. Your ass is like, woah.”

Peter choked on air. Somehow, he didn’t want Deadpool to agree with him that he (Spiderman) had the better ass.

Deadpool didn’t seem to notice. “So anyway, my name is Wade Wilson. I’m Canadian. I think my zodiac sign is Cancer. I haven’t been given a birthday by the good people of Marvel so let’s assume that it falls between January 1 and December 31. My favorite food is everything. I cosplay as Hello Kitty or Catwoman sometimes. What about you?”

Peter was too ??? that he forgot to turn on his privacy setting. “I’m Peter.”

“Peter what?”

His emergency privacy setting thankfully activated just then, so he managed to say, “Just Peter,” instead of blurting out that he was Peter Benjamin Parker Rogers-Stark.

Deadpool scratched his head. “Well, okay, Just Peter. Hey, which song would you rather have as my ringtone for you? Bootylicious, My Humps, or--”

Peter didn’t get to hear the third option because his watch suddenly beeped and JARVIS’s voice said, “You’re late for your curfew, sir. Shall I give you a minute to get back before alerting the Captain?”

Peter yelped and jumped off the building to swing his way towards Avengers Tower, but not before he heard Deadpool calling after him, asking, “Why do you have a curfew, Spidey?”

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this story was given to me by the muses last January, the plot outline was written around the first half of February (just before the Deadpool movie came out), and it has been written and rewritten sporadically ever since.


	2. First Shipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever have that story you write when you're taking a break from writing other stuff? This is currently that story for me.

“Who’s Red Fool?”

Peter snatched his phone from Gwen’s hands a little too late. Why did he even think that Gwen only borrowed his phone because her phone’s battery is dead? Her phone’s battery is never dead. Her addiction to Pokemon Go is proof of that.

“Nobody,” he said, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say when Gwen’s smile went from amused to downright mischievous in less than two seconds. “C’mon, Gwen. Can’t a guy use codenames for the people in his contacts?”

“A guy can,” Gwen replied. “Except the guy in question has his Uncle Clint listed as Not Bullseye and his Aunt Natasha as Russian Ninja.”

Okay, so those were a couple of terrible codenames. But, in his defense, not all his codenames for people were like that. Captain America and Iron Man, for example, were listed as Pops Icle and Daddy Oh, respectively. Awesome, right? And totally inconspicuous.

“Peter, I know what you’re thinking; and in case no one has the heart to tell you, you totally suck at giving codenames. In fact, if you had been the one tasked to name animals, we would have big orange stripeys instead of tigers, and tall spotted four-legged long necks instead of giraffes.”

Wow. So much for friendship. “That’s really harsh, Gwen. I’m changing your codename to Harsherina McHarsherson.”

“Hop to it, then,” Gwen said. “I mean, at least it’s more accurate than Science Bae.”

Peter held his hands up in surrender. He could defeat any villain in any given week--the latest being huge winged orange salamanders with flames on the tip of their tails, but not Gwendolyn Maxine ‘Previously Science Bae’ Stacy.

Triumphant, Gwen held out her hand and Peter handed her his phone. Better to let her nose around now while he was present than let her steal it later and hold it hostage.

Gwen cooed as she read his conversation with Red Fool, circa last night. Peter kinda wants to be swallowed by the ground right about now. “ _‘I’m setting your ringtone to Baby Boy, Just Peter.’_ Who is this guy?”

“Who says it’s a guy?” Peter asked, the end of the question trailing off when Gwen leveled him with a look that plainly says, _‘I know you better than you know yourself, Peter Benjamin Parker Rogers-Stark.’_

A few moments/minutes/millennia later, Gwen handed him back his phone. “I like him,” she said--nay, declared. “He seems pretty forward, but that’s understandable at this stage of your relationship. (“Relationship?” Peter mouthed to himself.) You should go for it, Pete. He seems nice and funny to me.”

Peter, perhaps a bit unwisely, muttered, “Has a great ass, too.”

The effect was immediate. One moment, Gwen was reaching for her own phone. The next, her eyes had widened, her jaw had dropped, and she had leaned over to Peter and whispered, “Deadpool? Mr. Nice Funny Guy is Deadpool?”

Peter didn’t freeze because it wasn’t winter. “No? No, of course not. I mean, why would I-- I know he’s within your bailiwick and I wouldn’t-- I would _never_ \--”

Gwen didn’t cackle. She did, however, giggle like a sophisticated palace-raised lady hyena.

Peter watched, helpless, as a few students walking near them at the quad looked their way suspiciously. “Oh my god,” Gwen said, wiping a nonexistent tear in her eye. “This is the best day ever. Hands down. No contest. I’m gonna-- I’m gonna ask Aunt May to make you some meatloaf or something.” She hit Peter in the arm. “When were you planning on telling me, huh? When you’re pregnant with DP’s kid?”

So much illogic. Very question. “What-- Why and how would I even become pregnant with his kid? Jesus, Gwen.”

The way Gwen rolled her eyes reminded him of his dad rolling his eyes. It was uncanny and a bit scary. “Gee, I don’t know. Modern science and getting bitten by a radioactive spider? Plus lots and lots of hot, steamy--”

“Gwen, no. Gwen, please.”

“Acrobatic, fantastic, semi-public--”

The bell rang just then, cutting off Gwen’s litany of words with the -ic suffix. Peter almost tripped over himself as he stood and ran towards his next class, but not before hearing Gwen’s lady hyena laugh following him as he ran.

When he checked his phone later, he found out that Gwen sent him about five texts with more words ending in -ic, and a picture of a smiling Maleficent with the caption, _‘Dibs on being your kid’s godmother.’_

He could do nothing but regret his bad life choices and change Gwen’s codename to Harsherina McHarsherson.

\--

_‘Hey.’_

_‘hi sexy ;D’_

_‘I’m gonna ignore that.’_  
_‘A friend of mine found out about us.’_  
_‘I mean this’_  
_‘The texting thing.’_

_‘yeah?’_

_‘She says she likes you.’_  
_‘And that I should give this a try.’_

 _‘*GASPS*’_  
_‘*faints*’_  
_‘*waits for true love’s first kiss* =3=)’_

_‘Stop’_

_‘*nope*’_

_‘Nope isn’t a verb.’_  
_‘Wade.’_  
_‘WADE’_

 _‘hey peter’_  
_‘you know what rhymes with wade?’_

_‘Lots of things?’_

_‘wild’_

_‘...No it doesn’t.’_

_‘it might if you use another accent’_

_‘I’m gonna sleep.’_  
_‘Good night, DP.’_

_‘do you know what dp means in porn?’_

_‘omg go to sleep you perv’_

_‘kk. night itsy bitsy ;)’_  
_‘say hi to your friend for me’_  
_‘@pete’s friend - hiya babe. call me?’_  
_‘@pete - you’re still my one true love though’_

_‘ffs go to sleep’_

\--

“I love him,” Gwen told him the next day, after she handed Peter back his phone. For the record, he totally saw her stealing his phone again. He just thought it would be better if he resign himself to his fate. “I’m gonna call him.”

“Gwen, no.”

“I’m not gonna steal him away from you, Peter.”

Peter groaned. “No, that’s...not really what I’m worried about?” By all means, let Gwen steal Deadpool away. But Gwen and Deadpool being BFFs? Bad combination. Like peanut butter and pickles. Or coke and mentos.

“What are you worried about, then?” Gwen asked. “Being the Robert while two Giselles perform a musical around you in Central Park?”

“Uh, what?” Peter felt his spidey sense tingling just before Gwen smiled her Disney princess smile, held his hand, and began to sing.

_‘How does he know you love him? How does he know he’s yours?’_

Peter really, fucking hates his life.

\--

 _‘your friend guinevere told me she’ll castrate me if i break your heart’_  
_‘repeatedly, if my dick regenerates’_  
_‘i dont know if it does but im fine not knowing’_

_‘She told you her name is Guinevere?’_

_‘judging from your reaction, i assume you don’t mind if i’m dickless’_  
_‘which is good to know i guess’_

_‘dafuq’_

_‘i do have a dick rn tho’_  
_‘a really great one’_  
_‘brings all the peters to the yard’_  
_‘even colossus’_

 _‘???’_  
_‘Okay you know what’_

 _‘what’_  
_‘peter what’_  
_‘peter’_  
_‘peteeerrr’_  
_‘don’t leave me hanging.’_  
_‘ha! hanging. get it?’_

_‘Dfjghdfk stop i’m in class’_

_‘oh okay sorry’_  
_‘hey you wanna go on a date with me?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe that Gwen and Wade would perform That's How You Know in Central Park if given the chance.


End file.
